The White Armor Ball
by elecktrum
Summary: On Christmas Eve valor is tested, gifts are given, and an ancient Narnian tradition is renewed.
1. At the Dawning of the Day

**The White Armor Ball**

by elecktrum

A/N: This story lifts many characters and situations directly out of Thalion King's Daughter's wonderful tale _Only Children_. If you haven't read her works, you should (if only so this story makes more sense!) Edmund's secondary blade is borrowed from warrior4's story _Lionsword, Tablesword_. My heartfelt thanks to both authors for allowing me to borrow their creations.

Disclaimer: Narnia and its characters are the property of CS Lewis, Walden Media, and Disney. I'm just borrowing them and I promise to give them back when I'm done.

****

Chapter the First: At the Dawning of the Day

We moved silently and slowly through the room, minimizing every motion and step to keep our armor from clanging and rousing our intended victim prematurely. The only light was from the hall, and that was faint at best as our co-conspirators waited with suppressed mirth. Peter motioned to me, pointing to the small rug at my feet. I nodded my understanding and carefully moved it with my foot so that the general would have a muffled path to the bed.

Cautiously, Peter listened at the bed curtains, making certain we had not woken the bed's occupants. Reaching up, my brother pushed the curtain aside, all the way back to the bed post, revealing the two sleeping forms within. Jaer and Jaerin, Sir Peridan's sons, lay amidst a tangle of blankets and pillows, sharing the bed for additional warmth as winter in all its frigid beauty made itself known in the land of Narnia. Jaer's head was just visible, but the only sign of Jaerin was a cocooned lump on the far side of the bed. They were soundly asleep, secure in their belief that because this was Christmas Eve morn, our usual battle training had been suspended. They were absolutely right - the _usual_ training had been suspended. What we had in mind, though, was anything but usual.

Peter, his armor and fair hair barely visible in the gloom, nodded to me, and I motioned to our cohorts waiting outside the room. Heavy hoof steps came from the hall as General Oreius began his role in this surprise, carefully stepping from carpet to carpet to muffle the normal din of his iron shoes. He held his swords firmly at his sides so that they would not make any noise as he moved towards the bed. I didn't need light to know that Oreius was highly amused and looking forward to this day - and night - as much as we were.

Leaning over Jaer's recumbent form, Oreius reached out his hand and lightly tapped the boy on the head with one finger. Jaer muttered something incomprehensible and tossed about before settling down again, his breaths deep and even. Oreius tried again with similar results, only this time we were able to make out a mumbling of, "Jaerin, stop!" amidst the noise as Jaer rolled onto his back.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing aloud as Oreius leaned closer. Peter had his hand pressed over his mouth, trying hard to contain him mirth. This time when Oreius tapped Jaer on the head, the boy's eyes snapped open wide. Before he could gasp at finding himself almost nose-to-nose with the general of Narnia's army, Oreius said in a severe tone,

"Rouse thee from thy sleep, Jaer Peridanson. 'Tis almost dawn and thou art late."

Jaer gaped at him, stunned into speechlessness. Oreius smirked, laying hold of the blankets.

"Up!" he commanded, yanking the covers clear off the bed, throwing them aside. A howl of surprise and alarm escaped Jaerin as the younger boy was rudely awakened.

"Late?" squeaked Jaer, noticing me and Peter.

"Aye!" I shouted. "Late!"

"Get up, lazybones!" Peter ordered.

More of our party was coming in from the hall, their lanterns and torches casting the room into long shadows. Sir Peridan moved through the crowd of soldiers to stand at the bedside of his sons. He, like the rest of us, was dressed in full armor, ready for a morning on the training grounds.

"Jaer, Jaerin," he said, a slight tone of censure in his voice. "Why aren't you ready?"

"Ready?" gasped Jaerin, his fair hair sticking out every which way. "What for?"

Jaer was hopelessly confused, and amidst my amusement I did feel a pang of pity for him. "There is no training today!"

"Who speaks of training?" cried Celer. The captain of the infantry pushed his way to the fore. Tall, fierce, and imperious, the Faun pointed directly in Jaer's pale face. "Training, Peridanson? I think not! I claim this one first!"

"Oh!" Peter let out an exaggerated exclamation of annoyance at having been beaten to be first, and he glared at Celer's smug expression.

Oreius shifted, a slow and wicked smile spreading across his angular face. "I claim him last."

Jaer stared, incapable of speech as he was parceled out, and it was my turn to complain at being beaten to the finish.

"Up," ordered Oreius, in a tone no one with sense would have argued with. He turned away as the crowd of soldiers filed out of the bedroom. "You have five minutes to be dressed. Wolfsbane, How, see to it!"

Peter and I laid hold of the boys and hustled them to the trunks that held their clothes and gear.

"Hurry!" Peter ordered. "Dress warmly!"

"What did you do?" Jaerin hissed at his brother as I yanked another shirt over his blond head. I dug in the trunk for heavy leggings, throwing more clothes Jaerin's way and wishing for more light so that I could see clearly. Clearly Jaerin was responsible for putting his clothes away because the trunk was a mess.

Jaer was hopelessly befuddled. "I - King - Sir - Peter!"

We paused for a moment, letting him to collect his scattered wits.

"What did I do wrong?" squeaked Jaer.

Peter grinned and yanked a tasseled hat over his ears. "It's not what you did wrong, good my friend, it's what you did right."

"But . . ."

Peter threw a heavy tunic at him, smothering him in quilted wool. "Put that on!"

We ignored their questions and protests as we found their boots (Jaerin had somehow managed to get one in the corner and the other under the bed) and gloves and the leather jerkins they wore for protection while training.

"Get your weapons," I commanded. "Hurry! Put them on as you go!"

Peter and I hustled them into the hall, Jaerin still struggling to get his right boot on properly. The corridor was empty, though well lit now. We urged them along, sorting out their weapons and shields as we went. Jaer tried to get more information out of us, but the only thing Peter said was,

"Adventures are only fun afterwards, Jaer."

There was no argument possible. Peter was an authority on such things.

Through the Great Hall, all festooned for the Christmas season in ribbons and evergreens, and out the main doors we rushed, herding our friends along. The morning air was very cold and crisp and mercifully still and the stars still blazed overhead. The Moon cast a silvery glow upon us as we made our way through the palace grounds, moving at an easy jog. By the time we got to the training grounds both boys were a little breathless but nicely warmed up for what was to come, which had been our intent from the start. Still alarmed, still trying to understand what all this was about, Jaer quietly gasped,

"Now what?"

I felt myself smile as I took in the long row of soldiers, officers, teachers, and knights ranged against the far wall, waiting for our arrival. Celer started the formidable line of Fauns, Centaurs, Dwarfs, Satyrs, Nymphs, Talking Animals, and one lone Human, and Oreius anchored it at the very end. Every eye in the courtyard was focused on us.

Jaerin blanched, his mouth falling open. His older brother shifted back, readying himself for whatever trial awaited.

It was Peter who replied to Jaer's desperate question. "Now you prove your mettle, Peridansons."

"Jaerin with me," I commanded, dropping my hand firmly to his shoulder. "Jaer with Peter. You'll fight each person in the row and move to the next one at Oreius' command. Fight hard, fight well, and no matter what, don't stop until you're done."

"Done or done in?" muttered Jaerin, and over his head Peter and I exchanged a grin. I steered Jaerin down the line, past the knights and sword masters and soldiers, more than twenty in all, to where Oreius stood at the very end. I set Jaerin before the Centaur and I took my place in the line of soldiers right next to the general. I glanced up the line, able to spot Peter by his silver helmet standing a few places down from Celer. I looked past him to Jaer and I was pleased to see the determination in my friend's expression. There was no way he could know what we were about this morning, but I could tell his resolve was set to do the best he was able. A glance at the younger boy before me told me that Jaerin was of much the same mind, though perhaps not quite as sure and still fairly certain this was all his brother's fault. He was right of course, but he was not entirely blameless himself.

"You have explained the rules to them, Sir Edmund?" Oreius demanded of me.

"I have, General," was my instantaneous reply. Jaerin shot me a look of desperation which I ignored.

"To arms!" called Oreius. There followed metallic clatters and hisses and ringing peals as swords were drawn and weapons loosed and we readied ourselves for battle. Jaerin hesitated for a heartbeat, and then drew his short sword and shifted his grip on his shield. Both brothers carried practice swords of appropriate size to their height and strength, and since the blades were dull we stood a far better chance of being bruised than cut. The day was not without its dangers, though, as was true of every day that we trained, and the people lined up to fight the boys had been chosen expressly for their control.

Against the sheer size and might that was Oreius, Peridan's younger son looked like a Mouse about to challenge an Elephant. His eyes stole to me as I drew Shafelm III, for I knew he admired the blade, and so with deliberate intent I reached across and also drew my short sword, called Tablesword after my chivalric order. That simple motion seemed to drive home the fact for him that he and his brother were about to get thrashed by this merry band. I saw him swallow before concentrating on the much bigger threat that was Oreius.

Looking down at his tiny opponent, Oreius smiled that slow, grim smile I had seen time and again and spoke of doom.

"Attack!"

He lunged, driving Jaerin back, and the test began.

The morning was planned to try Jaer 's - and by guilty association, Jaerin's - skill and tenacity and willingness to fight against impossible odds. Each person waiting in line knew the boys and the level of their ability and would tailor their assault to that degree (or perhaps a little above it, else how would they learn?) I watched Oreius spar with Jaerin, his movements slow and exaggerated in comparison to what I was used to. It struck me that two years ago, I had been where Jaerin now stood, and Oreius had moved just as slowly and with equal care. I looked over to where Jaer was defending himself against Celer and I smiled, thinking of Peter and how quickly he had taken to swordsmanship when we first started upon this path to be soldiers.

"Next!"

I snapped to the attack at Oreius' command. To my delight, Jaerin ran right at me with unexpected boldness as I slapped down my helmet's visor. Using Tablesword in place of a shield, I attacked with Shafelm only.

"Get him, Jaerin!" Peter suddenly yelled, and with that everyone waiting to fight began to urge the two boys on.

Inspired, Jaerin ducked low in his stance and surged upwards, forcing me to step back and to the side. I blocked his wide sweep with both swords just to give him something to brag about later, and let him push me a few more steps. Confidence building, Jaerin moved in too close to my shield arm and I shoved him back a few paces with one blow to his shield.

"Next!"

We had only been at it two or three minutes. For Jaer and Jaerin, I was sure, it seemed much longer.

I watched as the Nymph soldier Choin went at Jaerin with her stave. She taught him a new respect for the simple weapon as time and again she aimed for his feet, making him jump and dart about to avoid being spilled to the ground. I doubted he managed to get in a single offensive move of his own, so busy was he trying to avoid getting cracked in the shins. Beyond Choin, Jaer was faced off against Sir Giles. It was very amusing to watch the Fox fight. He was so fluid and quick and maddeningly just out of range that Jaer let out a bark of frustration.

"Stand still!"

Giles froze, but just for an instant and Jaer overshot his target. Sparks flew as Jaer missed the Fox and his sword hit the stone pavers. I couldn't hear what the knight said, but whatever it was only served to annoy Jaer all the more. It was like trying to swat flies with a hammer. Those of us that were waiting our turn roared out advice and encouragement.

"Next!"

And so on down the line the brothers moved, drawing closer to each other with every new opponent. When it was Peter's round he let out an almighty shout and launched an attack on Jaer that was all speed and little force and designed to keep him moving every second of the match. It worked. He didn't let up on Jaer for a moment.

Peridan, flanked by the Centaur captains Kanell and Xati, stood right in the middle of the line and he was given the pleasure of facing both his sons at once. True to form, Jaerin threw himself directly into the fray with an excited shout, getting into the spirit of the match with graceless vigor. His elder brother, fresh from a bout with Kanell, hung back a bit, soberly gauging the situation and seeking an opening. It was obvious that Peridan was enjoying the encounter immensely and he attacked his younger son and defended against his elder son. If Oreius allowed this battle to go on for longer than the others, no one could blame him. It was harder to tell whose pride was greater – Peridan's or his sons'. When Oreius called for them to move to the next person in the line, they paused briefly, sharing the moment and an affectionate smile. Jaerin's smile lasted only as long as it took him to face Kanell, of course, and Xati was enough to frighten anyone of sense, let alone Jaer Peridanson as he faced her next.

Everyone within a three-mile radius knew when it was Peter's turn to fight again because he let loose another battle-cry that stopped Jaerin in his tracks and drew a cry of shock from the boy. Their shouts echoed off the walls and the High King laid into his opponent with the same speed and enthusiasm as he had used against Jaer. It was my brother that I watched through the match, I will confess, for his skill and grace with a sword was beautiful to see. He carried no shield today, just Rhindon, and the mighty sword shone bright in the growing light.

When Jaerin faced Sir Giles, even Oreius chuckled to see the boy chase after the Fox. As he had done in his first match, Giles stayed just out of range, just a moment ahead of the boy. At one point Jaerin dove, trying to tackle the Animal, but Giles darted right between his legs and Jaerin caught nothing but the cold stone and the Fox ran right back over him. In that instant Jaer joined his brother on the ground as Choin swept his feet from beneath him with her stave, dumping him on his rump. Both boys sprang up immediately.

"Next!"

It was my turn again and I raced past Choin to engage Jaer. He was puffing for breath, seizing upon the brief opportunity to gulp a few mouthfuls of air. He had a right to be so winded, having fought more than a score of duels, but at the same time Jaer had a tendency to hold his breath while fighting. Peter used to have the same problem and on more than one occasion had almost blacked out for want of air. It was not a habit that was easily broken.

I used both swords to attack because I knew Jaer would be better able to defend himself than his brother. Without a sound I crossed my arms before me and swept both swords up in an underhanded motion, blocking his first strike. I flicked the shorter sword forward, forcing him back, and the match was on.

He was tired, I could tell, and I tried my best not wear him down too badly since his next challenge was chief among Cair Paravel's swordmasters. Still, I was not about to let him off easily, either. Spinning, sidestepping, driving forward, I kept one blade constantly engaged against him, giving him very few opportunities to get in any blows of his own, but on those rare occasions he was able to land some sound strikes with sword and shield. Gradually I realized that I was smiling. Jaer's determination to finish well against me, his king and friend, was evident. Even if I wouldn't let him, clearly he was willing to give his all.

"Next!"

I stopped my next swing and paused long enough to say, "Well fought, sir."

Panting, Jaer managed to give me a wry, appreciative smile in return as I quit the field. Oreius did not dash forward. He didn't need to. Grasping the massive sword that was his favorite weapon, he took slow, ominous steps towards Jaer, the sounds of his iron-shod hooves echoing off the stone walls. There was no other noise save the faint snatch of whispering carried by the breeze. In days past I had been Jaer's very position myself and I did not envy him in the least. A little distance away, Celer was stalking Jaerin with equal determination, and after a moment I realized the boys were being herded together. I recognized the tactic as one that had been used on me and Peter time and again. I glanced down the line of fighters to catch my brother's eye. Peter flashed me a smile, well aware of what I was thinking:

__

Side to side and back to back. Keep close to your brother, for each of you is the other's shield.

Oreius' constant litany echoed in my mind. It was a lesson these boys were about to learn the same way Peter and I had learned it: by example. I looked to Peridan. He was tense, clearly anxious for his sons but well aware that they were in no danger. He had the look of a horse that wanted to bolt into action. Watching the general and his foremost captain about to engage in battle against my friends, I knew exactly what Peridan was feeling.

When the two boys were a step or two away from each other, the swordmasters attacked, driving them back. Jaer and Jaerin bumped together, spared a swift glance at each other, and immediately grasped their situation. Thus reinforced, both boys faced their opponents with renewed confidence and vigor.

There was, of course, no contest. The sons of Peridan fought valiantly and together, but in the end, when Oreius finally called a halt, they were too worn out to do more than double over and gulp at the cold air. Well pleased with themselves and the boys, Oreius and Celer exchanged smug smiles before turning and nodding to me and Peter.

We broke ranks, Peter and I, and hurried to check our friends. We would have to get them indoors soon so that they didn't get chilled after working up a sweat, but first there was one more thing we needed to accomplish this morning and we needed Jaer and Jaerin on their feet for it. As Peter bent over Jaerin, I leaned down to see Jaer, and through his breathlessness and fatigue he managed a wane smile at my inquiring look. He blinked as Peter tapped each of them on the shoulder to get their attention.

"Bright eyes are watching you, Peridansons," he cautioned, nodding to the wall.

The two boys turned, their chests still heaving as they tried to recover their breath. Twin groans escaped them as they saw Narnia's queens, such ladies-in-waiting as could endure this cold, their mother and their little sister standing on the wall behind us. Delight shone on the ladies' faces and in their eyes. Dressed in all their finery and furs, they made a lovely and bright splash of color against the dull gray stone. They had been there the whole time, bearing witness to this test and the one to follow. Jaer and Jaerin had been too intent upon the action in the courtyard to notice the shadowy figures on the wall behind us and too busy to hear their soft voices and cries of astonishment and encouragement.

Every inch the knight, Peter strode forward, dragging the still-winded Jaer along with him. He saluted with Rhindon and called, "My ladies, do your champions please you well?"

Susan and Lucy pushed back their fur-lined hoods as they stepped to the edge of the wall. Their cheeks were cherry red from the cold and they smiled merrily.

"We are most pleased and impressed, Sir Peter," Susan replied, playing along. "They have proven themselves loyal and true. I would know this bold warrior's lineage." She gestured gracefully at Jaer, still held upright in Peter's grip.

Behind the queens, Rien giggled behind her hands, excited at having her brother singled out for so much attention and the courtly formality we now used as part of this little drama. Saera was aglow with pride at watching her sons and husband prove themselves to the worthies of Narnia. For good measure I hauled Jaerin by the scruff along with me and joined Peter and Jaer.

"By your leave, my queens!" I called. "His good mother, Lady Saera, stands at your side with your ladies, Queen Susan. His sire is of ancient Narnian stock and is known to you, for it was he that our Valiant Queen knighted as Sir Peridan Cwengarde in the Order of the Vial this Mayblossom past."

As always, Peter struggled not to laugh out loud at the mention of Lucy's chivalric order. To cover for his amusement, I turned and called,

"Cwengarde! Cwengarde! Your queens desire your presence!"

We watched as Peridan detached himself from the knot of soldiers and hurried over. His pleasure at the morning's activities was evident in his aspect and the glint in his eyes as he glanced at Jaer, and then looked to his queens. Behind us, the other Knights of Narnia – Giles Fox, Oreius, Kanell, and Celer – drew closer. Behind them the soldiers began to form a barricade, reducing the field and blocking off any means of escape. Blithely unaware, Peridan bowed to the queens.

"Be you the father of this goodly warrior?" asked Lucy.

"Aye, Queen Lucy, I have that honor," he returned.

"And is his father as ready as he to prove his mettle?"

Peridan whipped out Fahdane, that legendary sword that had been handed down through generation of his family. He held it high so that it flashed in the morning sun. "On my oath, Queen Lucy, this sword is ever at the service of you, your family, Narnia, and Aslan. You have but to give me your command."

Lucy smiled, and her innocence and charm completely disarmed the knight. "Sir Peridan, the word is given!"

He hesitated, uncertain of her meaning, and suddenly he became aware of the fact that he was surrounded by rank upon rank of able fighters. Peridan looked back, taking in the sight of sons and kings and knights and swordmasters and soldiers ranged between him and any hope of escape.

The day's second test of skill, tenacity, and the willingness to fight against impossible odds was about to begin.

We all had our weapons drawn.

We all were smiling.

We all attacked him at once.


	2. The Breakfast of Champions

**Chapter the Second: The Breakfast of Champions**

A/N: You'll have to forgive me for this chapter title! Since this whole story is pure self-indulgence on my part, I didn't even try to resist.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

"Lady Saera?"

A jubilant, adoring sound midway between a sigh and a squeak escaped the lovely dame standing beside me. Saera flashed me a radiant smile as she clasped her hands before her and exclaimed, "Oh, Queen Susan, is he not the most handsome man in the world?"

I smiled at her delight as she looked down at her husband in the courtyard below. We shared a moment of giggling familiarity, our girlish glee hidden by our fur-lined hoods as we leaned close and enjoyed the sight of so many soldiers and knights assembled on this frosty morning. Sir Peridan, having just been tried and tested (and tripped, that by Sir Giles Fox) by the finest warriors in Narnia, was reeling and breathless and looking rather in want of attention that didn't involve weaponry. Seeing his wife's admiring gaze, Peridan gave a weary but happy smile and saluted her with Fahdane.

"And surely he ranks among the most courageous," I replied. "He did well against so many."

Saera laughed faintly. "Were there more, he would have kept on fighting."

I nodded, understanding. I had seen the same determination and drive in my brothers, and both of them would go until they dropped if they felt it was necessary.

"He is in good company, lady." I looked to Lucy, who was talking to Rien. "Lucy, shall we?"

My little sister broke into a wide smile. "Oh, yes! Let's, Susan! I'm hungry, so I'm sure everyone else is, too!"

Given the appetites of Centaurs and kings, I was certain she was right. Turning back to Saera, I asked,

"Lady Saera, you'll join us for breakfast? Everyone is invited."

She beamed with delight. "The pleasure will be ours, my queens!"

I gestured to the ladies-in-waiting and other dames of the court that had accompanied us this chilly morning. "Shall we allow these handsome and noble men to escort us all to the palace?"

Most of them giggled at the suggestion, but I could tell that they were all in complete agreement. Lela, the pretty, yellow-skinned, green-haired Nymph who had caught Celer's eye, was the first to step forward.

"I believe I see my escort right now," she said with a saucy smile. "By your leave, Queen Susan . . . ?"

"Of course," I replied, surreptitiously watching her flirt. From her hair she pulled a sprig of holly that had clusters of bright yellow berries to match her own coloring. She waited until Celer came closer, and then dropped the sprig so it landed at his hooves. He bent to pick it up, and then he looked up to find her.

"I believe this is yours, fair lady," said he, clutching the sprig close to his chest.

She tossed her hair, barely seeming to notice him. "It is, Sir Celer, and if you are kind and act as my protector on the way back to the palace, I may let you keep it."

His smile was as warm as summer. "You do me too much honor, my lady."

"I do," Lela agreed outrageously, slowly walking down the stairs to join him. "You are fortunate that I am fond of handsome Fauns."

"I am indeed," Celer said, offering his arm. I smiled as I realized he hadn't agreed if he was fortunate or handsome, and Lela didn't hold him to specifics. Arm in arm they walked away, their heads bent close.

She made it all look ridiculously simple, though I suspected the Nymph had been practicing for years. It would be great fun, I thought, to be able to be so free with men, but as a queen I could not tease anyone so. Besides, I had yet to find the man that I _wanted_ to flirt with, and heaven help him when I did and my brothers got wind of it. At least with them about I was guaranteed a man that was the bravest of the brave

More admirers came to guide the ladies and we all made our way to the floor of the courtyard. Peter was waiting for me and offered me his hand down the last few steps. At a hard look from Peter, Jaerin likewise offered his services and with our arms linked and the warriors close by my sides, we set out across the grounds. No snow had fallen yet, but everything was white with frost that glinted like stars in the morning sun. I could see Lucy between Edmund and Jaer already past the stables, calling out greeting to the Horses and other Animals that lived there. Just ahead of us, Peridan walked between his wife and daughter. Both ladies were doting on him.

"You fought very well, Jaerin," I said to the boy on my left. "Were you very surprised?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed, suddenly indignant at being reminded of having been yanked out of his warm bed. "What was all this about?"

Peter grinned, not about to give anything away, and I said, "Tonight is the White Armor Ball!"

"I know, Queen Susan," Jaerin answered. His frustration at the situation was returning. "But what does a dance have to do with us having to fight all morning?"

"Dance?" I smiled. "Do you know the meaning behind a White Armor Ball?"

Put on the spot, Jaerin shrugged and pushed his tow hair out of his eyes, trying to come up with an answer that might satisfy. "I thought . . . I thought it was just another celebration. I thought . . . well . . . everyone would wear white clothes and armor. At least, Mother made Rien a white dress and she made Father a new tabard of the same cloth."

Peter's voice was full of amusement. "Methinks this young fellow is in need of correction, Queen Susan."

I elbowed him in the ribs, the layers of fabric between us padding the blow and causing him to chuckle. "Your form of correction comes with too many bruises, Wolfsbane." I smiled down at Jaerin to reassure him. "You are partially right, Jaerin. When we get inside and get some breakfast into us, I promise I'll explain to you what a White Armor Ball is really about."

"Will I have to dance?" he asked without the least hint of enthusiasm.

"Yes!" Peter and I said together, and then we laughed as Jaerin moaned.

****

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

It was a flushed and happy crowd that accompanied me and Lucy into Cair Paravel's conservatory. Though not nearly as temperate as the inner rooms of the palace, my sister and I had decided to hold the breakfast celebration in here because everyone was already warmly dressed and because it made for such a pretty setting. Despite the thick frost outdoors the exotic - and some not so exotic - plants sheltered within these glass walls flourished and it was very refreshing to see flowers and greens in the midst of winter.

Tables of food were already prepared - cold meats and smoked fish, rich cheeses, hearty breads, delicate pastries, dense fruitcakes, winter fruits and preserves were all laid out on tables decorated with evergreens and winter roses. As our guests entered, more food was brought in - egg dishes and hot game pies and confits and a great nut cake still warm from the oven. Tea, hot chocolate, honey mead, mulled cider, and coffee were already being poured by the servants so that everyone could have exactly what he or she wanted to drink. The smell of food mingled with the moist lushness of the conservatory and many a hungry sigh rise up from our guests. I wasted no time, well aware of the mighty appetites surrounding me. I hurried to the door and climbed the few steps so I would be visible to all be they tall or short.

"Cousins!" I called out, and silence fell almost instantly as they all turned to face me. I smiled to see so many happy faces. "Brave men of Narnia, fair ladies all, I bid you all a happy Christmas Eve and I thank you for attending this feast. As we begin this meal, I ask you give thanks to Aslan for this bounty and these friends. Good cousins, pray eat your fill!"

A happy, hungry cheer rose up as I curtsied to those assembled. Goblets, glasses, and tea cups were raised in salute to me and to Aslan. As with most Narnian feasts there were a number of tables set up at various heights to accommodate the many sizes of citizens in attendance. Thought this party was relatively small – no more than fifty in all – we followed that tradition so that all the different types of Narnians would be comfortable as they ate their fill. As the founders of the feast, Lucy and I moved among the tables, welcoming the soldiers and guests and making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink. In typical fashion for Cair Paravel, there was no want and no waste.

Eventually I ended up seated with the knights Sir Peridan and Sir Giles and their families. We sat on soft cushions on the floor around a low table close by one of the braziers set up to keep the room from freezing. Peter was standing among the Centaurs, gesturing wildly as he spoke. He had his fork in his hand and I could only pray he didn't impale himself. Doubtless they were talking battle tactics, and before the meal was over they would have the entire Battle of Beruna fought again on one of the tabletops using scraps of toast and nuts for the various forces. Edmund sat with some Black and Red Dwarfs off in a corner where poinsettias bloomed in profusion. They weren't even aware of their surroundings. Knives and daggers of all sorts and sizes were arrayed before them on the table and I knew they were discussing metallurgy and smithing. Before long they would be borrowing every blade in the room for comparison, and then they would start banging their fists on the table and shouting as they argued about different smithing techniques. I knew this because I'd seen it happen before. Lucy was by the food, talking to the Nymph soldier Choin, Lela's twin. Both, I think, were trying to figure out exactly how much clotted cream one could put on a single scone and they were giggling at their efforts. Finally Choin just made off with the bowl of cream and they joined her sister and Celer amidst the gorgeously blooming succulents.

Peridan and his sons were silent as they set to their meal with gusto. It wasn't until half of his plate was empty that Jaerin remembered my promise. He waited for a break in my conversation with Lady Marion Fox and, hastily swallowing, asked me,

"Queen Susan, if I may, what is a White Armor Ball?"

The other children at the table, especially Rien and the two vixen kits, looked up with great interest. They were all invited to tonight's celebration. For Giles' children at least, I knew it was their very first ball. Peridan and Saera, who had moved to Narnia from Archenland less than a year ago, gave me their full attention. I kept my fork in my hand so that people at the table could keep eating while I was not, and I explained,

"A White Armor Ball is a Narnian tradition that dates back to the year 219. King Willam the Bold was newly crowned and married when, midway through the month of Yule, there was an uprising of Fell Beasts on the Northern Marches by Coldstream Vale. He rode out with the army and his younger brother, Frank, who was much of an age to you, Jaer. Cair Paravel was left in the care of his bride, Queen Lin. A great celebration had been planned for the season and the coronations and the wedding, and Willam left Lin with an order to carry on as if he were there at her side.

"Four days before Christmas Eve, the army vanquished the Fell Beasts and secured Narnia's northern border once again. Prince Frank conducted himself very bravely against the Fell Beasts and he even slew their second-in-command, a Hag, saving his brother's life. King Willam resolved to knight his brother as soon as they returned to Cair Paravel. They set out immediately, riding night and day through the cold and snow. When they arrived at the Cair on the eve of Christmas Eve, a great ball was being held with music and banquets and dancing. The soldiers rode right into the great hall carrying their banners and still wearing their full armor. Willam jumped off his Unicorn and right into the arms of Lin. The music playing was the _Wassail Carol_, which dates back to the days of King Frank and Queen Helen, and they sang and danced to the end of the song."

Sarai and Helene let out ecstatic little whines at the hopelessly romantic image of a triumphant and loving knight returning to his lady. Rien looked equally smitten. The boys all wore thoughtful looks, and after a moment of digesting the story thus far, Peterkins asked,

"Queen Susan, was the Hag very grufull and hard to kill?"

I laughed at his wide eyes and earnest expression. He was adorable in every way. "I am sure, Master Fox."

"So was Prince Frank knighted?" Jaerin asked, getting back to what interested him most.

"The next day Queen Lin presented him with a suit of white armor and that night, Christmas Eve, he was made Sir Frank Coldstream of the Ancient Order of the Sentries. He was one of the greatest warriors and heroes of his time."

Jaer blinked, and I could tell he had a hundred questions about the battle and the aftermath. I hoped I would be able to answer them all. We waited, all of us, for him to find the words.

"Why do you call it white?" he finally asked. "Isn't all armor silver colored? Unless it's leather, of course," he added before his brother could correct him.

"White armor," I said, "is unadorned. It means that the person wearing it has earned recognition, but no device for decorating his shield."

He nodded, and I knew he was mentally ticking off the shields and arms of all the soldiers he could think of at the moment.

"So!" I continued. "Sir Frank Coldstream was named Narnia's first White Armor Knight. In his honor all the soldiers wore their armor again at the following night's celebrations. Ever after, on Christmas Eve, an armored ball was held, with singing games and dancing and gifts. A custom was established of naming a White Armor Knight from among the young men and women when there was one that had done good and valiant service to Narnia. From that night on, until the end of the Christmas season on the last day of Yule, the Narnian appointed the White Armor Knight was afforded the title of 'Sir' and treated as a Knight of Narnia."

Rien and Peterkins both let out long, longing sighs for completely different reasons. I smiled at their dreamy expressions.

"And after?" wondered Jaer. I noticed a hint of caution in his voice.

I leaned close and covered his hand with mine. His fingers were chilled. "There has never been a White Armor Knight that did not earn his spurs in the years to follow."

He nodded, absorbing this. I gazed at him fondly, aware of his parents sitting nearby, watching and listening. They exchanged a quick look and a smile, hoping . . .

"Over time, whether or not a White Armor Knight was appointed, everyone began to wear white clothing to this ball. Since the armor was unadorned, so too were all the clothes. No jewels, no ornaments, no color is worn save white. The only decorations allowed are evergreens, and the ball does not end until Christmas in the early morn. We could not revive the tradition last year because King Peter was so very sick with pneumonia, but this year . . ."

Jaer was silent, staring at the table, deep in thought. I could see him putting the puzzle pieces together, saw his breathing quicken slightly. Finally he looked to me. Hope and trepidation mingled in his hazel eyes. There was an unspoken longing in his expression and he burned to ask me a question . . .

Suddenly I noticed the silence that filled the conservatory and I realized that everyone in the room had been listening to the history lesson I had been giving. Even the Dwarfs had abandoned their talk of smith work to listen. I blushed at the unexpected audience, but I wasn't surprised. Stories of all sorts were very highly prized in Narnia, and the people listening rarely cared if they already knew the story or not, so long as it was told well. I shot a glance at Lucy. She was biting her lip and her eyes glittered like diamonds. I had not seen her so excited since we had gotten word that Peter had returned from the Western Wild.

Jaer drew a breath, bracing himself, when Peterkins blurted out,

"So is there going to be a White Armor Knight at the ball? Can I be the knight? Please?"

His parents let out growls of annoyance at their only son's appalling timing. Sir Giles snapped, "You're lucky to have seen your first birthday after you disobeyed King Edmund and chased him to Ettinsmoor!"

"Oh." Peterkins, reminded of his transgressions of this past spring, dove under the table to escape their wrath. Marion sighed and shook her head and just left him there for the moment. The vixen gave me an apologetic look, but nothing could spoil this moment.

"Peterkins," I called. There was a muffled thump as he hit his head on the table, then the kit slowly poked his nose out close by my hand. I smiled down at him and smoothed his fuzzy head. "Each thing in its time. You will have to wait your turn, Master Fox."

I sat back and looked at the people assembled. We were connected, all of us - soldiers, queens, knights, officers, kings, friends, lovers, family, rivals. Our love for Narnia, for _revinim_, for each other, for tradition and celebration, had brought us to this pinnacle. I felt a surge of affection and gratitude to every person here. We Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve may have freed them, but they in turn had saved our lives time and again.

It was time to shift direction slightly, and I set aside honoring one warrior for another. "Sir Oreius Heydensrun," I said, standing up and smoothing my long skirts. "Sir Kanell of the Ettin's Keep. Sir Celer Rosenward. You are Cair Paravel's swordmasters, making you the finest warriors in this land, and from thence the world. What say you, good sirs?"

The trio of knights stepped forward as they were called. Tall, dangerous, blazingly intelligent all, they ranged before me. Oreius, senior among them by skill, rank, and title, bowed before he cast a hard gaze at Sir Peridan. He spoke to me, but his words were directed at the lord from Archenland. I knew what would be said already because the Cair's swordmasters had approached me and my siblings early this month with their proposal.

"I say, Gentle Queen that we three have found one that we would name a peer, for he has shown great skill and daring in service to Narnia and her rulers. If he be willing, let him be so called."

Saera let out a gasp.

"It is not my place, Sir Oreius, to name your peers," I said. "Having so little skill with a blade, I leave it to you and your fellow swordmasters to expand your fellowship."

"Then we call Peridan, son of Erain, of the line of Helvein Panthersbane, to stand and take his place among us as a Swordmaster of Narnia."

Peridan stared speechlessly as we all looked on with delight. Finally he stood, and looking at the tall Centaur, he managed to say in a voice that was thick with emotion, "You do me great honor, General."

Oreius, who I knew counted Peridan as a close friend, replied, "You saved our beloved queens from Fell Beasts and traitorous Dryads. It is you who have honored us by accepting this title, Sir Peridan."

I looked to Peridan's family. Saera was overjoyed, close to tears even, and she pressed a hand to her lips. Their children sat in silent awe, staring at their father with unabashed admiration, the boys especially since they had been exposed to Narnia's other swordmasters. I watched Jaer in particular. For a moment he seemed torn between pride and . . . something else. Disappointment was, perhaps, too strong a word for the reaction that flitted across his features. He had entertained for a moment what he now felt was a wild hope. As I watched from a few yards away, I saw him swallow, take a deep breath, and then give himself over to his family's happiness as Rien crushed him in an enthusiastic hug and Jaerin loudly related events they had all just seen. His joy at his father's promotion was complete.

People began to talk in whispers, energized by this newly bestowed title. Peridan and his family were very popular in the court, and soldiers were always pleased to see one of their numbers get his due. Happy cheers and shouts of congratulations rose up as Peridan moved to clasp Oreius' arm, then Kanell's and finally Celer's. The Faun in particular was pleased – he loudly announced he was quite tired of being the lowest-ranked among the swordmasters, even though they were all always afforded every respect. Laughter filled the room, and I sought Lucy's eye once again.

She nodded to tell me that all was prepared, and her smile was infectious. I was about to ask for quiet when Jaerin suddenly exclaimed,

"So that's what this morning was about?"

I turned to face him, glad of the opening he made.

"In part, Jaerin," I said. "In part."


	3. The Lion Calls

**Chapter the Third: The Lion Calls**

As everyone rushed to congratulate Sir Peridan on being named swordmaster, I felt a gentle tug on my sleeve and heard a voice whisper,

"Queen Lucy, we have it here."

I turned and faced Avraiva, senior among my ladies-in-waiting. She carried a bundle that only yesterday Susan and I had carefully wrapped in bright fabric and ribbons. Behind her were two more of my ladies – a green-eyed Ocelot named Regand and Maidenhoof, a lovely little Fallow Doe. Between them they carried another package by the ribbons securing the wrapping. A smile lit Avraiva's pretty face, and she leaned close in to say,

"It's quite heavy, my queen. We'll stand back and hold these for you until you need them."

"Thank you, Avraiva," I replied, touched by the Dryad's thoughtfulness. I glanced at the crowd in the conservatory and twisted back to them to add, "This is so exciting!"

Susan turned to face me and I nodded to let her know that our gift had arrived. I could not stop smiling and my sister let out a little laugh of anticipation. Just then Jaerin called out above the din,

"So that's what this morning was about?"

He was pointing at the soldiers clustered around his father. He seemed both pleased by his own cleverness and indignant at having been so rudely awakened by my brothers and Oreius. Susan cast me a quick wink and turned to him.

"In part, Jaerin," she answered. "In part."

"So what's the other part?" he immediately asked, and then realized his tone was not quite the thing for addressing a queen. Before his mother could say a word Jaerin blushed scarlet and hastily added, "If it pleases Your Majesty. I do beg your pardon."

Lady Saera cast him a stern and warning look, but we in Cair Paravel were not so bound by formality as the court of Anvard and no offense was taken. Susan and I were used to boys acting like boys, after all, and we knew from experience that their excitement often outstripped their sense. I was certain, though, that Jaerin would get a talking-to after breakfast.

Susan left it to Saera to address her son's outburst. She gave him an enigmatic smile and said, "That remains to be seen, Peridanson."

When finally the clamor died down and people settled back to their places, Susan gestured to me to join her in the center of the room. I looked an invitation to Peter and Edmund to come with me, but Peter just smiled and shook his head, answering for both of them. We had asked them to be a part of this moment and they had declined, saying that this honor belonged exclusively to Narnia's queens since we had been directly involved in the events that brought this about while they had merely been the catalysts behind it.

I had practiced what I wanted to say at this moment and I hoped that if I forgot anything that Susan would remember for me. My words had been chosen with great care because I was about to touch on some frightening and painful memories. A hush fell as I stepped to Susan's side, and I clasped my hands before me to keep from fidgeting. Taking a deep breath, I began:

"Good my cousins, we stand here today united by friendship for each other and love of Narnia and of Aslan. My brothers and sister and I once again thank you for your loyalty and service . . . and our lives."

There was a faint stirring at this. I smiled, expecting such a reaction. "This year has been a difficult one, but our troubles have been well balanced by our many blessings. Chief among those blessing have been our friends that have risked all in our service. Heydensrun, Ettinskeep, Cwengarde, Rosenward, Captain Xati, on behalf of my family, I thank you." Here I curtsied deeply to the warriors I had just named, for they were the chief actors in the events my words touched upon. They bowed back to me in turn. Their fellow soldiers were plainly very happy to have them recognized publicly. "We would none of us be here were it not for your devotion."

I stole a glance at Susan, hoping I hadn't forgotten anything thus far. She smiled reassuringly. A slight movement off to the side caught my attention as Edmund shifted a step closer to Peter. I doubted he was even aware of his defensiveness, but it was very endearing. Since returning from that awful adventure in Ettinsmoor, Edmund had developed a protective streak that could rival Peter's. Luckily, he focused his attentions almost solely on our High King since Peter needed it the most.

I looked through the flower-filled room. Everyone was so content, so pleased with the day. The Fox kits were draped over their patient mother, warm and safe and loved. Rien leaned against Saera, holding her mother's hand. I was so very glad these good friends had families of their own! It was heartening to know that they were held as dear by their loved ones as I was by my own.

"There is another good and loyal friend that I – I mean _we_, would like to thank." I felt myself blush. Pausing for a moment, I collected myself, remembering what I wanted to say. "He was wise enough to listen when called, faithful enough to follow blindly, and brave enough to dare the disapproval of those he loves most in order to follow his heart."

I looked to Avraiva, and she glided forward on her tiny feet and passed me the package. She was right – it was quite heavy, but it was a reassuring weight. I braced my elbows against my hips to hold it comfortably. I heard a murmur of thanks as Susan leaned over to accept the other package from Maindenhoof and Regand.

"It's not always an easy or simple thing to answer Aslan when he summons you, just as it's not easy or simple to do what is right. People may not see the same reasons or they may not understand the drive to act when the Lion calls." I paused, taking a moment to revel in my memories of Aslan now that I had mentioned him by name. The sound of his laughter echoed in my mind and set my heart to racing. Joy filled me, golden and soft like his mane, and I smiled to share the feeling with everyone there in the conservatory with me before I focused my attention again on the young man before me.

"Jaer Peridanson."

He sucked in his breath, and then scrambled to his feet. Hastily he bowed to us, and in his surprise he did not bow like a Narnian, but like an Archenlander. Charmed, the people in the room exchanged amused looks and there was an excited tension charging the air. When Jaer straightened his face was pale and his eyes were wide and stormy with emotion. I saw Peridan reach out and cover his wife's hand with his own, while Jaerin leaned around his brother's legs to see better. Susan spoke next.

"Jaer, it is thanks to your wisdom and foresight and daring that we your queens did not come to harm this past Mayblossom. And so we ask that you accept this gift with all that it means and all it entails."

Before he could respond I quickly added, "And we ask you to honor your kings and queens and all of Narnia by accepting the title of White Armor Knight and allowing us to address you as Sir Jaer until this season is done."

He was silent, overwhelmed, and he just stood there with his mouth opened in astonishment. Perhaps, upon hearing Susan's story of the White Armor Ball, he had hoped for this to happen, for he had proven himself on that anxious journey to the Northern Marches this past spring. The reality of being offered this ancient distinction seemed to rob him of speech, however.

I offered him the cloth-wrapped gift in my arms. "Please say that you will, Jaer."

Still stunned, looking as if he'd been hit full in the face by a snowball, Jaer slowly reached for the bundle. I motioned to the ribbon with a little nod of my head, and instead of taking the gift he pulled the bow. The silk fell away to reveal the suit of chain mail newly made for this occasion. It shone silver-bright and shimmered like a fish. It was Dwarf made, strong and light and flexible. Jaer gasped.

Though they had not said as much, I knew that Peter and Edmund had helped the smiths to make it. The Chief Armorer at Cair Paravel had let slip what good workers they had turned out to be even though Edmund swung a hammer like a Black Dwarf and Peter kept banging his head on the low rafters of the shop until the Chief Smith dismissed him for fear of him sustaining a concussion. They had done whatever they were told to do – Edmund being far more skilled than Peter - and had labored without complaint, anxious in their own way to show their gratitude to their friend.

Susan leaned forward a little, offering the gift in her hands. Just as I did, she held it for Jaer as he pulled the silk ribbon to reveal gauntlets made of white leather and polished steel greaves lying upon a tabard of snowy white samite. Each piece - the mail, the equipment, the tabard - was beautifully, simply made.

There was not a sound in the room as we let Jaer Peridanson absorb what was happening. Jaer pursed his lips, daring to reach out and touch the smooth mail shirt draped over my hands as if he could not believe it was real. He swallowed and finally looked at me. His eyes and face were filled with the kind of joy that words cannot express, but can only be felt.

His voice was faint when he spoke, and followed his father's example as he said, "You . . . you do me great honor, my queens."

"Then you accept?" asked Susan softly.

He swallowed again and nodded before he stepped forward and relieved me of the increasingly heavy mail. "Yes, Queen Susan. I accept. With all my heart."

A giggle of sheer happiness escaped me, because his reaction was all we could have hoped for and more. Susan nodded to our brothers. Immediately there came a hiss and a clear metallic ring as Peter drew Rhindon. A higher-pitched tone followed as Edmund drew Shafelm III, and then all the soldiers in the room stood and stepped a little away from each other to draw their weapons. Peridan hastened to his feet and after another long moment of gaping at his brother, Jaerin managed to stand and pulled out his short sword. He could not look away from Jaer, so awed was he.

"Cousins! Friends! Soldiers and Knights of Narnia!" I cried aloud, drawing the knife Father Christmas had given me and holding it high. "I give you Sir Jaer, the White Armor Knight!"

"Sir Jaer! Sir Jaer! Sir Jaer!" cried everyone in the room in the traditional salute to a new knight. The sound was deafening, but nothing compared to the ecstatic shouts and howls that followed. Susan leaned over and kissed Jaer on either cheek, filling his arms with our other presents as she did so and weighing him down. I kissed him the same way before Edmund wove through the excited crowd around us. Grabbing Jaer by the ears, he pulled his friend down a bit (for Jaer was older and taller than he) and pressed two kisses to the top of his head. Peter followed suit a moment later, kissing Jaer's hair. I don't think Jaer noticed he was being kissed by his queens, let alone by his kings, so amazed was he. Jaerin tackled him from one direction, Rien from the other, and it was only their father that kept the three of them from tumbling over in their enthusiasm. The Fox children bounded around their feet, yipping with excitement and tripping everyone that tried to move.

"Well?" Peter finally asked Jaer a few minutes later when he finally escaped the clutches of all the well-wishers. "Are you going to carry that or wear it?"

Jaer blinked as if it hadn't occurred to him that the whole purpose of armor was to protect the one _wearing_ it. For the second time that morning Peter bodily hauled Jaer off, only this time it was to help him don the new suit. Edmund and Jaerin and Peterkins followed them for good measure. All of them except for Jaer were talking at once as they stepped out of the conservatory. I saw Saera sink down on the cushion that served as her seat. She looked quite overwhelmed with happiness, as if she didn't know where to start expressing such great emotion. I smiled to see so much joy because I knew the feeling well. When she looked up and saw me, I gave in to the urge to take her hands in mine hold them tight.

"Oh, Queen Lucy, this is the most wonderful thing!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "I . . . I feel . . . So full, so blessed by all of you and by Aslan. Oh, I am the most fortunate of women!"

I smiled broadly at this good lady. I was just thinking how her warmth and affection reminded me of my own mother, when Rien, who was almost dancing in her excitement, came rushing up to us.

"Mother, Jaer is almost a knight! It's the most wonderful thing! Oh, Queen Lucy!"

I laughed to hear her repeat her mother's words, and I laughed again when Rien squeezed me in a quick, tight hug.

"It is! It is! I'm so happy he accepted! You'll be at the ball tonight?" I pressed. "Your brother is the guest of honor, after all!"

Rien nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! My very first! Mother and Camilla have made me the most beautiful new gown of shining white cloth and I'll wear holly in my hair like the Nymphs do."

"There will be wassail and the armored ball and everyone will dance and play games and then we'll feast," I replied. "Will you take part in the singing?"

Rien blushed prettily and cast a quick look at her mother, who smiled reassuringly. "I can try."

"Well, one of the games will be a great deal of fun," I said, encouraged by her response. "Everyone that wants to will make up a verse to the song we sing to open the ball and we'll each get a turn to sing a verse. I'll be going first, but Susan and I will be singing for our brothers, too, and I know they'll be singing. If you want to try you just have to tell Sir Giles. He'll be the Master in the Hall all night long."

"What's a Master in the Hall?" she wondered.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Rien. That means he'll be directing all the games and call for dances. Last year it was Mr. Tumnus, but with Peter so sick last Christmas we really didn't have anything as grand as this year's celebration. We certainly didn't have anything as thrilling as a White Armor Knight!"

Being reminded of Jaer's elevation got her excited anew. She drew in a breath to say something else when a commotion from the hall seized everyone's attention. At first I thought the boys were back already, but then a handsome Zebra herald stepped into the room. He was accompanied by some gaily dressed Fauns and Nymphs and a Baboon carrying a red lion standard. They were all bedecked with ribbons and bells and the Nymphs carried evergreen branches. I beckoned them to draw closer and they filled the room with even more color.

"My queens," called the Zebra, bowing low. "A health to you this blessed day and ever after!"

"Be welcome at this merry time and ever after," I replied in turn, guessing their errand. "From where do you come?"

Silver bells tingled sweetly as the Zebra tossed his head. "Queen Lucy, we set out two days ago from the forest at the foot of Mount Selain at the westernmost reach of Glasswater Creek. It has been our honor to escort the wassail bowls and their makers to Cair Paravel."

"Where are these bowls and their makers now?" I asked.

"They await your pleasure in the great hall."

I clapped my hands, and I very much wanted to jump up and down. "We'll wait for the kings to return, and then you can escort us to the hall. In the meantime, please, refresh yourselves and eat your fill."

I don't know if the heralds got much chance to eat because several soldiers whose families lived in the area pressed them for news and gossip. A merry din rose up as everyone talked and ate some more when suddenly Peterkins came bounding into the room.

"They're coming! They're coming! Jaer is wearing his armor!" he called before darting out again to make a grand entrance with the rest of them.

Peridan, his wife and daughter moved closer to see and all eyes were on the entrance to the conservatory. We could hear Jaerin talking long before we could see the four boys return, and we listened intently, trying hard not to laugh. It seemed the younger of Peridan's sons had come to realize that after being rudely parted from his warm bed and soundly thrashed by the finest warriors in Narnia, he had no new title and nothing to show for it.

"Have you any bruises?" we heard Peter ask with deep concern.

"Yes! Many!" Jaerin replied indignantly.

"Well, there you go," Edmund said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Happy Christmas."

"Your presents were delivered a day early," Peter added. "My heartfelt congratulations."

Jaerin moaned in annoyance at the situation and shook his head as he rounded the corner. He came to a stop as he was met by so many smiles and he moaned again as he realized everyone had heard his complaints. With a hearty yell, Peterkins announced his own arrival and bounced down the steps to sit on Jaerin's feet. Peter and Edmund kept Jaer between them as they stepped through the arched doors and a great, happy shout rose up at the sight of Jaer in the shining mail and gear. He blushed and smiled with quiet pleasure, his eyes bright as he looked at his parents.

From where I stood I could not see their faces, but I saw Peridan reach across Saera's shoulder and he pulled her close for a one-armed hug. Their pride in their son was evident in every gesture, and I would not have been the least surprised if Peridan suddenly burst into song.

"Peter!" I called before anyone could speak. "Peter, the wassail bowls have arrived!"

The High King's eyes grew wide with pleasure. "Where are they, Lu?"

"The great hall! The heralds are here!" I pointed to the Zebra and his troop.

My brothers exchanged a quick glance and Peter said, "Splendid! We can present Sir Jaer to everyone assembled!"

Began Jaer, "I-"

He tried to move away, not used to being the center of so much attention.

"None of that," insisted Edmund, laying hold of his friend's arm. "You accepted everything it means and entails to be the White Armor Knight. Don't force us to make up more duties for you to carry out."

"But . . ."

"Be of good cheer, Sir Jaer," reassured Peter in milder tones. "'Tis the Eve of Christmas and we only ask that you let us pay you every honor you deserve."

Jaer cast a swift glance at Peridan, who nodded his encouragement, and with a sigh and a smile I saw him relent and give himself over to the celebrations. Peter clapped him on the shoulder and laughed for the sheer pleasure of it.

I stooped to pick up little Helene to save her from being trod on by feet or hooves large or small. Beside me, Rien picked up Sarai and held her tenderly, stroking the little vixen's sleek red fur and whispering secrets between them. I saw Peter watching us and a moment later he scooped up Peterkins as he bounded by and dumped the kit into Jaer's arms. Rien and I giggled and the young Foxes we carried joined in as Sir Jaer tried to contain the wriggly and excited handful that was Peterkins. Jaer finally managed to stuff the Fox under his arm, leaving the kit stretched out on his forearm and hand.

"Your first duty as a knight is to protect those smaller than yourself, Sir Jaer," lectured Peter. "Therefore I charge you with the safety of my namesake. Guard him well, sir."

"My human is taller than yours," Peterkins bragged to his sisters, looking down from where he was firmly pinned.

Sarai sniffed, completely unimpressed. "Ours are prettier."

With a laugh I reached over and ruffled the fur atop his head. Susan gestured to get my attention and looked pointedly at the doors as if to tell me we had guests waiting.

"To the hall!" I called to the happy crowd. "Good heralds, lead the way!"


	4. Wassail, Wassail!

**Chapter the Fourth: Wassail, Wassail!  
**  
A/N: FadedxReality has kindly allowed me to borrow her lovely character Lareyna from her wonderful (though sadly unfinished) story _Love is a Battleground _to serve as Oreius' date to the ball. The good general is not married yet, but I trust that he will be once FadedxReality gets done with him.

The melody I make use of for this chapter has several names:_ Wassail Carol, Gloucester Carol, _and_ Gloucester Wassail_. It's a traditional English carol and one of my favorites. The melody dates back to the medieval period, the most commonly sung words date back to the 17th century.

My thanks to everyone that has read and reviewed this little foray into Yuletide fluff! I hope all of you have a marvelous holiday season!

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

A long procession formed behind the heralds. As we moved through Cair Paravel, more and more people joined us until it was a happy throng that wound through the palace. I found myself walking with Peridan and Saera, and I immediately I offered them congratulations.

"High King Peter," Peridan said with absolute seriousness, "you . . . your royal family . . . _Narnia_ have all contrived not only to make us perfectly welcome in this kingdom, but perfectly happy as well. We are forever in your debt."

I shook my head, smiling at his awe. "There is no debt, Peridan. The honors you have received have been well earned, and your service to Narnia speaks louder than words." I looked to where Jaer was fighting to keep Peterkins in place while keeping pace with Susan, then back at our new swordmaster. "I cannot begin to express my gratitude to you and your son for the safe delivery of my sisters this past Mayblossom, sir."

"Service to ones such as you and your royal brother and sisters is no labor, but the greatest of honors," he replied. "For through you I am able to serve Narnia, and thus Aslan."

I bowed my head to show that I appreciated his words. He was a good man, and it had been a fortunate day for Narnia when he and his family had relocated here.

The excited, noisy crowd poured down the grand staircase in the great hall and leaned over the railings on the upper stories to see. There was a sizable group assembled already, because only a few of the escorts for the wassail bowls and their makers had been sent to announce their arrival. The hall was very bright and festive and smelled of the cedar and balsam greens hung in swags and garlands, for tonight's ball was going to be held here, in the largest open area of Cair Paravel. I stood on the landing with my brother and sisters, and Susan kept Jaer at her side.

Waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs was a group of four Dryads so beautiful and stately as to take one's breath away. They were Ebony Dryads, and their coloring was reflected in the black wooden mazers they carried. They had masses of jetty curls that were pulled back from their faces and held in place by living crowns of ebony leaves, and their skin was almost as dark as their hair. Chief among them was a tall woman that moved with the grace and dignity of an empress. Quiet fell through the hall as she glided forward on her tiny, bare feet, and the other three Dryads followed in a row. They climbed the stairs to meet us on the landing and I saw that the other Dryads looked very much like the lady they followed. They were very exotic, with dark eyes and angular faces that were different from most of the Dryads that lived around Cair Paravel. Before the assembly the Dryad bowed, and when she spoke her voice was deep and clear.

"The blessings of Aslan and of the Yuletide upon you, O kings and queens of Narnia, and upon all that you hold dear. I am Mashya and these are my daughters. We come from Mount Selain to bring you a gift of the season."

I returned her bow. "Be welcome at Cair Paravel, gracious lady. Be welcome, daughters of the mountain. Our home is yours."

The three younger dryads smiled at being thus addressed by a king, and the littlest, a mere sapling, tried not to giggle.

"I am Peter, the High King," I continued, my voice carried by the acoustics of the hall. "This is my sister, Queen Susan, my brother, King Edmund, and my sister, Queen Lucy. And allow me to present to you, dear ladies of Mount Selain, and to all of Narnia, Sir Jaer, the White Armor Knight."

Mashya smiled graciously, and she looked upon Jaer in his splendid armor with glittering eyes. A small gasp swept through the assembly at my last statement, and everyone strained to catch a glimpse of Jaer even though they all knew what he looked like. Many of the four-footed Animals stood on their hind legs to see better. Quite a few Talking Birds and Bats took to the air to get a look at him, and I could only hope the Flying Squirrels did not forget the injunction leveled against them that forbid them from trying to fly indoors. We did not need any more mid-air collisions with such a crowd filling the hall. Jaer blushed at all the attention and at the raspy call of an old Macaw dame that declared him almost as handsome as his armor (which for Birds is a pretty compliment, though they normally say feathers instead of armor). When the din settled down to a low buzz, Mashya spoke.

"We are honored to be presented to you, O blessed kings and queens, and to so brave and worthy a warrior as this knight of ancient accord." She balanced the bowl in one hand to gesture gracefully. "This is my first grown, Corva, my second grown, Tafara, and she that sprang up at the start of your reign, Rishna."

Each daughter bowed and cast us a dazzling smile, careful of the large black bowls they carried.

"With your permission, High King, we would give you and yours a gift from both mountain and glen, from water and earth and skies, from all that is Narnia, to all that is Narnia. Warmed by the sun, fed by the earth, refreshed by the waters, we grow in the peace secured by Aslan and preserved by Your Majesties. Old traditions have been renewed, old honor has been served, and the magic of the land has returned. And so let us take up our part and offer you these mazers, formed from the heart of an ebony tree in our grove, to serve out the wassail at this year's Christmas celebration. Let us wish you and all of Narnia good health and prosperity and all the joy of this season."

Stepping forward, she offered me the shining black mazer. It was elegant in its simplicity and surprisingly heavy in my hands. I bowed in thanks as Corva glided a few steps forward to present Susan with a slightly smaller bowl. Tafara flashed Edmund a playful smile as she handed over her gift, and Rishna and Lucy exchanged a quick giggle over the last, smallest mazer.

"We thank you, Mashya, and your daughters. Our thanks, too, to your escort. Tonight is the White Armor Ball. Will you all stay and celebrate with us?"

A great, happy shout rose up from the crowd, almost demanding that the newcomers stay for the ball. With a brilliant smile, Mashya bowed in acceptance for herself, her daughters, and everyone that had accompanied them to Cair Paravel.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Jaerin was rather scandalized when I decided to take a nap not long after we left the great hall. He seemed to think it was somehow beneath a king's dignity to have a lie-down. I knew better than he did, though, about how late we would be at the ball, and I wanted to enjoy the entire thing. It had been a long time since we'd held a ball and this was the grandest one yet. There would be music and dancing, then a banquet, then more dancing, and so on all the night through. From tonight all the way to the thirty-third day of Yule there would be endless festivities and diversions and feasts as we celebrated the season. A century and more had passed since such a celebration, and there was much to be made up for.

After such an early morning and rigorous workout on the training grounds, I felt no shame in retiring to my room to snatch a few hours of sleep. Susan shooed Lucy off to get some rest, promising to wake us all in time for tea. It seemed my head barely touched the pillow before Silvo was rousing me. My Faun valet was smiling, and I could hear the indistinct and unhappy sounds of a Just King being likewise wakened by Martil. Edmund growled and muttered and sat up in his bed with his hair sticking every which way and a savage hiss on his lips. I laughed and whipped a pillow at him. He let it knock him back into the bed and he lay there unmoving, sprawled out with the pillow over his head.

"Ugh!" was his entire – and rather delayed – response.

"Come, brother!" I called, not about to get any closer. I knew him too well. This was when he was at his most dangerous. "We've tea to drink and food to eat and guests to entertain and a ball to attend with feasting and music and dancing and-"

"Singing," came a muffled moan from the lump on the other bed.

Armed with another pillow, I ventured closer. "La! And singing! Up!"

An indignant shout rose up as I smacked him with the pillow, and snatching up one of his own, he launched himself at me. We were shouting and laughing and suddenly Lucy was there, roused by our shouts and equipped with her own lacy weapon of war. Taking no sides, she smacked both of us soundly with her cushion. We were laughing too hard for the fight to last long, and I was glad to see that Edmund was awake and somewhat civil.

"Tea is in an hour," said Lucy, leaving the field in triumph. "We're taking it with our teachers and the palace staff in the dining room."

"We'll be there!" I promised.

Edmund just muttered and snarled and let Martil do his job.

As Silvo fetched my clothes he coached us both on things to notice. I knew nothing of fashion and rarely paid attention to clothing or hair or style unless something was very far out of the common way. Once he figured this out (after about a week in my service), Silvo had taken it upon himself to correct this deficiency. For grand events such as this, he primed both me and Edmund with information gleaned from his close relationships with the ladies-in-waiting.

"Queen Susan's gown is new, and she chose the color specifically to match her eyes. Queen Lucy's dress is the same she wore to the banquet marking the start of winter, however her sash is new and she is particularly proud of her shoes because her lady Avraiva embroidered them with beads for her." As he spoke the Faun toweled my hair dry and then came at me with a comb as fiercely as Lucy had come at me with her pillow. "Both of your royal sisters will have their hair styled in a new manner, my kings, and Queen Susan will be wearing the jeweled hair combs you gave her for her last birthday."

Edmund grinned. "You're a lifesaver, Silvo."

And so it was that, upon greeting our sisters before heading out to tea, I was able to declare,

"I say, Susan, you look smashing! Have I seen that gown before?"

Not to be outdone, Edmund exclaimed, "Lucy, what's that on your slippers? They're sparkling."

I don't know if our sisters ever figured out that we were fed information, but at least we never were accused of being boors and failing to compliment them.

The day was whiled away with good food and good company. Sir Jaer was presented time and again to this person and that until he couldn't even try to keep names and titles straight. I think he was still stunned at the day's events, but he moved about in a happy daze, especially since Susan had told him that as guest of honor at the ball tonight he wasn't expected to do much more than enjoy himself. Eventually Lucy claimed him for a little while, and when she sent a page to fetch her lute I knew what she was about.

Eventually it came time to get ready for the ball and for once Edmund and I needed to devote a sizable amount of time to getting dressed since we were going in armor. The armorers had laid hold of our gear during our nap to polish it and check for damage, just as they did every day. I studied my suit of mail and plate and wondered aloud,

"Do you think we'll actually be able to dance like this?"

"I hope not," Edmund grumbled. He smiled at my expression. "Peter, if we can fight, run, tumble, ride, and sleep in our armor, I'm quite certain we won't have any excuses not to dance in it as well. You may want to put aside your leggings and just wear your greaves, though."

"I suppose you're right." I agreed, unable to suppress a smirk. I enjoyed dancing whereas he had to be dragged bodily onto the floor by his partner (though once he started dancing he could and would go on all night).

We helped each other don our armor just as we always did. For us it had become part of our morning ritual, a familiar and comforting routine, though it was odd to gear up in our bedroom and not the armory. The tabards our valets set before us were heavy white cloth, and even the lion on them was embroidered in white thread. Swords and knives, each one with a tale to tell, were belted on, and lastly we set our crowns upon our heads.

"Well?" I asked.

"Very fetching," was Edmund's response, making me wonder why I bothered asking. With a grumble I pushed him out the door so that we could collect the girls.

They were lovely in their flowing white gowns. Their dresses were plain but splendidly made. Both queens had their hair up and they wore crowns made of holly and mistletoe. Lucy carried the lute we gave her on her last birthday and she was almost dancing already, so excited was she to be opening the ball.

The hall was already crowded, with the musicians and servants in place and the sweet, spiced scent of wassail mixing in with the smell of evergreens. The predominant color was white. Armor flashed on the men and some of the women and holly and evergreens abounded, decorating hair and tails and wrists in lieu of flowers or jewelry. A great cheer rose up as we entered the hall, and we left Lucy alone on the landing and made our way to the floor. Almost immediately – because everyone was eager for the celebration to start – I was handed the ebony mazer Mashya had brought. I held it steady as a Faun poured in a long, steaming stream of wassail. It smelt of apples and cinnamon and ale and citrus, all that was best of the season. Besides me, Edmund and Susan likewise held their bowls ready.

Lucy searched the crowd, smiling when she spotted Jaer. I saw her gesture enthusiastically and a moment later our White Armor Knight joined her. She whispered to him and he nodded before setting off at a trot to where the musicians sat ready. I saw him lay hold of his violin and he hurried back to join Lucy on the landing. Smiling and radiant, my littlest sister adjusted her crown of holly more firmly on her head before she tuned her lute a final time. Beside her, splendid in his new mail and white tabard, Sir Jaer did the same. At Lucy's nod he tucked the instrument under his chin. A happy silence fell as everyone turned to listen as the two musicians skillfully played the tune of the carol and started the dance. They played it twice through, swaying to the simple tune, before Lucy began singing in her sweet soprano and accompanying herself all the while:

_Be welcome dear friends to our White Armor Ball!  
Be there any revelers here in this hall?  
Dance now and sing, let your wit flow free!  
And drink a wassail toast with me!_

The tune was ancient, dating back to the reign of King Frank I and Queen Helen, but the words were all newly written for the occasion. A great cheer rose up from all sides as Lucy curtsied and Sir Jaer bowed and the game began. Lucy hurried down the stairs to join us and receive the plain wooden bowl from Mashya. The rest of the musicians joined in and Sir Giles, from his post on the steps, gave us our chorus:

_Wassail, wassail, a toast to the crown!  
Two kings and two queens who cast winter down  
They vanquished the cold and set springtime free  
With our wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!_

The verse wasn't entirely correct, but it didn't matter. Along with my brother and sisters, I lifted my wooden mazer in salute and took a drink of the strong wassail within - it was sweet and spicy and rich and I drank only a mouthful before passing the bowl to Cyn, captain of the Gryphon scouts. Everyone would drink from the bowls tonight, uniting us in song and spirit . . . and spirits. Giles nodded to Edmund as the crowd repeated the chorus, and my brother drew deep breath and caught up the song with a salute to Narnia. He gestured so widely his hand smacked my chest as his high, clear voice filled the hall.

_Now drink to the north land with rivers so fair!  
Her mountains and glens, from Caldron to Cair  
From Lamp Post and Lawn, to the glistening sea,  
With our wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!_

"Oh, very poetic, Ed," I commented, earning myself another smack.

There were cheers of approval from many throats and Susan seized my hand and we waltzed through the chorus. Wearing armor certainly made dancing interesting, because with a sword on I took up more space than normal and I had to be careful not to hit anyone by mistake. As everyone fell to dancing, Giles dashed about and organized the next stanza. To my surprise, the Fox joined a group on the stairs comprised of Oreius, Kanell, Celer, and Peridan. All of them were flushed with drink and merrier than I had ever seen them as their deep voices boomed out:

_Ye brave Knights of Narnia, stay for a while!  
The Lion, the Table, the Arrow, the Vial!  
Most daring of all, sure none can compare  
To our aspects or skills or ladies so fair!_

Each knight sang out the name of his order, and each sang the last line to his wife or sweetheart. There was so much laughter that everyone missed the chorus and the musicians had to play an extra round to allow us to catch up. The respective ladies - Marion, Lareyna, Xati, Lela, and Saera - all shook their heads and threw their hands (or tails, or both) in the air and gave up trying to get their men folk to behave. The ladies all turned to the nearest man and seized them for a dance partner. That was how I ended up dancing with Lady Marion, taking tiny steps as I held her paws in my hands.

Beside me, Edmund was laughing so hard that he leaned on Jaer for support, and I wasn't in much better shape. Someone handed him one of the wassail bowls and he took a drink before handing it over to me. He dashed into the happy crush to dance a few steps with Xati, and I gaped in surprise to see Susan very carefully waltzing with a Bear. I held the bowl steady as a Satyr page refilled it. Giles, meanwhile, ran through the crowd and moments later a group of majestic women stepped to the foot of the stairs. It was Mashya and her graceful daughters, and they joined hands as they sang:

_All sons and all daughters now lift your bowls high!  
Give thanks to the seasons, the earth and the sky  
Sun, stars, and rain all waken the seeds  
To the fruits, the grains, the flowers, and weeds! _

More laughter erupted as the ladies glided away into the crowd, and I could see Edmund dancing with Tafara a few moments later. I drank quickly and set the bowl down for the Cat pages take a sip before passing it on to one of Susan's Nymph ladies-in-waiting. The Ebony Dryads were replaced by Peterkins. The little Fox climbed a step or two for a better view and faced the crowd, waiting for the chorus to end so he could sing his verse. He drew a deep breath and -

Nothing. We could tell that in his excitement, he'd forgotten the words he had composed. He stood there, astonished at himself as the horns and flutes and strings and drums wore on without him. When the tune came around again he tried once more, drawing a deep breath and then frowning. He gave a little whining 'Oh!' of disappointment and self-disgust as memory failed him completely. There was good-hearted laughter and cheers for the Fox, who after all was only a year old. He slunk back to his mother to be comforted and I saw Susan lean over to talk to him and reassure him. In moments he was laughing and chasing his sisters again. I reached out and swept into my arms the first lady I encountered – in this case, Rien. We waltzed through the chorus, and as the verse ended I spun her around so she could enjoy the feel of her gown sweeping about her legs. I felt Rhindon smack into someone, and I immediately turned to apologize.

"I have been knighted once already," Oreius reminded, moving out of range. He cast me a rare smile before stepping back into the dance.

Sir Jaer was the next one appointed, and he took Peterkins' place on the stair. He did not sing, but he had his violin and upon it he played a variation upon the melody we had been singing. He twisted the song back upon itself, enriching and compounding each note, building the music's complexity until he played multiple notes for every one we had sung. It was amazing to hear, and for that brief stanza Jaer seemed to lose himself in the creation of beauty.

I caught Giles' attention and pointed to Edmund and myself. I elbowed my brother with a loud clank of armor and he nodded and we searched the crowd for our sisters. Both were dancing, Lucy having set her lute aside to dance with a Mouse while Susan was partnered with Jaerin. Lion be praised, but Peridan's younger son was having the time of his life and he actually looked disappointed when I cut in on him.

I caught Susan's hand as she swept past and I twirled her around. A few feet away, Edmund, flushed with drink and pleasure, fell to one knee at Lucy's feet and together we sang in harmony:

_And here's to our good queens in lily-white gowns  
Such grace and such beauty bids scarce to be found!  
Their crowns they are made of the evergreen tree  
With our wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!_

Both girls curtsied deeply, delighted. Seizing them as partners, we waltzed through the chorus, singing all the while. Then Susan and Lucy drew close together to give us their response.

_A health to our good kings who with sword and shield  
Stand fast 'gainst our foes and never do yield!  
Stand fast 'gainst our foes and keep our land free  
With our wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee!_

Happily we bowed to the queens. This time I danced with Lucy a few steps before the four of us dashed up the stars and stood together to sing:

_Now tell us, O Narnia, of your newly named knight! _  
_Such valor in battle though his armor be white!_  
_The legends will sing of his daring so keen_  
_As he plied his blade in defense of two queens!_

Jaer had one of the mazers in hands and he snorted and almost choked at being made the subject of our verse. He hastily passed the bowl off to Kanell while Xati slapped him between the shoulder blades as he coughed, almost flattening him. I stayed on the steps as my siblings returned to the crowd, and at a word from Sir Giles, Kanell delivered the mazer to my hands. I saw my family collect their wassail bowls as well, and when the chorus and laughter ended I raised my voice in song, singing slowly and with deep feeling:

_Now hail to the Lion, our Highest of Kings  
Roar out to the Son and the warmth that he brings!  
His blessings abound, so join in our hymn  
With hearts full of love, we'll drink now to him!_

I brought the nearly-empty bowl to my lips and drank to Narnia's creator as the final chorus rang out. The wassail was rich and sweet and warm, like summer, like Aslan. All the way down to the last drop I drank, while below me my siblings finished off their bowls as well. A little breathless, I smiled at the assembly. Lifting the bowl high, I gave a final call,

"Wassail!"

And from every Narnian in the hall came a hearty, full-throated shout in reply:

_"Wassail!"_

_Fin_


End file.
